


Not Broken, Just Bent

by katertots



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (2012), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Break Up, Breaking Up & Making Up, F/M, Hopeful Ending, Making Up, Relationship(s), Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-24
Updated: 2013-05-24
Packaged: 2017-12-12 19:52:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,942
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/815391
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katertots/pseuds/katertots
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Her stomach twists and ties itself into a mess of knots as she takes the stairs to his apartment, the unknown of what will happen once she knocks on the door looming over her ominously.  Despite what Bucky said about Steve being miserable, maybe it's too late for them.  Maybe her insecurities are too big an obstacle to overcome, or maybe they're just not right for each other.  Her heart aches at that thought because in spite of everything, she really loves him.  She has to try.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not Broken, Just Bent

**Author's Note:**

  * For [nessismore](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nessismore/gifts).



> This came about originally from a prompt that nessismore gave me, "I fucking need you, okay?" It somehow spiraled into this. 
> 
> I honestly don't know how many people took a look at this along the way, held my hand, listened to me whine, told me what worked and what didn't...but it was a lot. You know who you are and you know I love you. Thanks for not throwing me out a window.
> 
> The title is from Pink's "Just Give Me A Reason."

She’s tucked back in a shadowy corner of the bar drowning her sorrows in Miller Lite when Bucky slides down into the booth.  He runs a hand through his shaggy hair, flinging droplets of water across the table at her face.  “You look like hell, Darce,” he says in lieu of greeting. 

 

Darcy pulls off her glasses to wipe the lenses and frowns at him, but there’s not much heat to it because she knows he’s telling the truth.  She saw herself earlier in the harsh light of the bar bathroom and cringed at her reflection in the mirror.  However, she just shrugs and takes another sip of her beer.  “This is heartbreak chic,” she deadpans, pulling the cuffs of her baggy wool sweater down over her hands and pushing up the glasses on her nose. 

 

“Wanna talk about it?” Bucky asks.  He reaches for the pitcher of beer and pours himself a glass.

 

She takes a sudden interest in the table and absently traces her fingers over a heart carved into the scarred wood.  “Nope.  You wanna talk about why I saw you destroying a bank of lockers yesterday?”

 

He scowls back at her and picks up his beer, draining it in three greedy gulps.  “No,” he grits out, wiping his mouth with the back of his flesh and bone hand.    

 

Darcy assumes that act of vandalism had a lot to do with his tenuous on-again-off-again relationship with Natasha, but she won’t press the issue if he doesn’t want to talk.  “Okay, then,” she says with a succinct nod and refills both of their glasses.  “Beer it is.”  The waitress comes by and Darcy hands her the empty pitcher, ordering another before the woman can even get the words out to ask if they need anything else.  “To our joint misery,” she smiles sadly, holding her glass out in the middle of the table. 

 

He snorts and clinks his glass against hers.  “Bottoms up, doll face.”     

 

They order food and watch the Knicks game on TV, occasionally making comments about a particular play or foul that occurred, but they steer clear of talking about their problems, instead choosing to sit in companionable silence. 

 

“You want my advice?” Bucky asks at halftime.    

 

Darcy pushes the uneaten fries around on her plate and there’s a sudden pang of sadness in her chest that makes it difficult to breathe.  Steve always ate the rest of her food without fail.  It’s a little thing, but the loneliness she feels is overwhelming.  She forces herself to lift her head and look Bucky in the eye.  “Not especially, but I don’t suppose you’re going to keep your mouth shut.” 

 

The corners of his lips twitch and he takes another long, slow drink off his beer, considering her over the top of the glass.  “Go fix things with Steve.  He’s fuckin’ miserable.”

 

She snorts derisively and narrows heated eyes at him.  “We broke up.  If he’s so damn miserable, maybe he should call up little Miss Golden Agent.  She’d love nothing more than to give him all the comfort he needs,” Darcy snaps bitterly.  Every time she thinks about Steve with that other woman it sets her teeth on edge and digs the knife a little deeper into her heart.

 

“Nothing happened between them, Darcy,” Bucky sighs. 

 

“ _Bullshit_!  She’s been sniffing around him like a goddamn bloodhound for months.  I have to say, for an agent she wasn’t very stealthy about making a play for my boyfriend.  Ex-boyfriend, whatever.”  Her voice cracks and she bites down on her lip because she flat out refuses to cry about it in the bar. 

 

“She tried, but it didn’t work.  He turned her down because he loves you.”

 

“Right,” Darcy draws out, rolling her eyes.  “Because he fought _so_ hard to keep me.”  She’s bitter and heartbroken, she knows, but she can’t help it because in the end he just let her go, let her walk away without much of a protest, as though all that time together hadn’t meant to him what it had to her.  That is the part that hurts the most.   

 

“Don’t do that, Darcy.”  Bucky shakes his head and gives her a disapproving look.  “Look, I’m the first to admit the punk can be really dumb sometimes and he often doesn’t say the right things, but stop acting like it’s all his fault.  It isn’t.” 

 

She sniffs indignantly and toys with the cardboard coaster her glass has been resting on all night.  It’s soggy from the condensation and disintegrates between her fingers.  She tries not to view that as any kind of pathetic metaphor for her broken relationship.  Bucky’s right, though—it isn’t all Steve’s fault and she’s heaped plenty of blame on her shoulders since they broke up last week.  “I know,” she says weakly, sniffling as the tears betray her and slip down her cheeks.  “Dammit.” 

 

Bucky stares at her, carelessly drumming his cybernetic fingers on the table.  “Do you love him?” he finally asks.

 

More tears fall and she chokes back a sob.  “Of course I do,” she manages. 

 

“Then fix it,” he tells her. 

 

“It’s not that simple,” she snaps, angrily swiping at the tears on her face.  He leans forward and curls his fingers around her wrist.  “There’s—” 

 

“Yeah, it fucking is,” he bites back, cutting her off.  “You’re both stupid for each other.  Just quit making this breakup about something that never happened in the first place and go make up.  After all that Steve’s been through in his life he deserves to be happy and you make him that way.  Pretty sure that’s a two-way street.”

 

It can’t be as simple as all that and she doesn’t believe it will be.  But maybe she should at least try.  “I’ll think about it,” she finally says.  “You wanna talk about Nat now?” 

 

“Fuck,” he grouses.  “Darcy, don’t.” 

 

“Well, excuse me,  _Buchanan_ , I didn’t realize it was just pick on Darcy night.  You butted into my business, so I’m returning the favor.  And since you look like you maybe kinda sorta wanna put a bullet between my eyes right now even though I’m trying to be a good friend, I’ll tell you the same thing you told me.  There’s nothing going on with Natasha and Clint.”

 

“’M’supposed to take your word as gospel but you won’t even listen to me about Steve?  Nice try, sweetheart,” he bites out gruffly.  He gives her a hard look and picks up his beer, frowning to find the glass empty.

 

Darcy sighs and considers his words.  He has a point there.  “Tell you what, pal, let’s make a deal.”  Bucky stares at her for a beat and arches a questioning brow.  “Call Natasha and have her meet you somewhere and I’ll go to Steve’s to talk to him.”  She musters up the brightest smile she’s currently capable of and when he rolls his eyes she knows she’s got him. 

 

“Fine,” he says between gritted teeth. 

 

“Good,” Darcy smiles.  “Because I texted her while you were in the bathroom.” 

 

“Goddammit, Darcy!  So help me, if you weren’t a girl, I’d fucking clock you right now.” 

 

Darcy chuckles for the first time in a week and it sounds and feels foreign to her.  But it’s good and it even makes Bucky’s eyes crinkle as a lopsided smile twitches across his face.  “I know, buddy.”  A flash of red hair catches her eye near the back entrance and Darcy juts her chin slightly in that direction.  “Nat’s here.” 

 

“Hate you,” he says without malice and rubs a hand over his jaw. 

 

“Hate you back,” she smirks and reaches for her coat.  She tosses a few bills on the table to cover her portion and slides out of the booth.  “Good luck,” Darcy says softly and lays a hand on his shoulder.

 

Bucky pats her hand and looks up at her.  “You, too, kid.” 

 

Darcy nods and walks away from the table.  “Nat, hi.” 

 

“Thanks for the text,” Natasha says evenly.

 

“Sure,” Darcy replies and tugs on her coat.  “I’m—gonna go talk to Steve.” 

 

The faintest hint of a smile flickers across Natasha’s face before it’s gone again.  “Good.” 

 

Darcy tucks her hair behind her ears and slips the strap of her bag across her chest.  “Go easy on him,” she says, nodding towards Bucky and heads for the door. 

 

 

* * *

 

 

Her stomach twists and ties itself into a mess of knots as she takes the stairs to his apartment, the unknown of what will happen once she knocks on the door looming over her ominously.  Despite what Bucky said about Steve being miserable, maybe it's too late for them.  Maybe her insecurities are too big an obstacle to overcome, or maybe they're just not right for each other.  Her heart aches at that thought because in spite of everything, she really loves him.  She has to try.    
  
Darcy takes a deep breath and knocks lightly.  Dum Dum barks twice and she hears the familiar sound of his claws scraping against the hardwood as he rushes to the door in his excitement.  Steve's voice comes next, telling him to sit.  She holds her breath and knows he's looking through the peephole to see who's on the other side.  He quickly fumbles with the locks and pulls the door open.  
  
Steve looks awful.  Well, as awful as Steve Rogers is capable of looking, which is still better than 98 percent of the population; but his hair's a mess and his eyes are sad and he hasn't bothered shaving for days it seems.  "Darcy," he says thickly, his voice gritty from underuse.  "Hey."  
  
Dum Dum lunges for Darcy and plants his front paws on her stomach, tongue lolling from his mouth as he wags his tail excitedly back and forth.  She ruffles his fur affectionately, scratching behind his ears the way he loves.  She's missed this big mutt terribly.  “Hi, Dum Dum,” she coos.  She lifts her eyes towards Steve and they stare at each other for a long moment.  A big, cowardly part of her wants to turn and run away rather than go through all of this with him again and risk ripping open that place in her heart that's barely started clotting, but she has to know if what Bucky said is true.  "Can I come in?"

 

“Of course.”  He steps back and opens the door fully for her.  “Dum Dum, down boy,” he orders and the dog obeys, rubbing his head on Darcy’s leg before meandering over to his favorite spot under the window.

 

Darcy walks inside his apartment and drops her bag and hat on the small table door before undoing the buttons on her coat.  Steve helps slide the coat off her arms to hang it up and she’s momentarily comforted by the familiarity of the gesture he’s done countless times before.  “Thank you,” she murmurs and bends over to remove her snow boots.  She sways a bit on her feet and Steve saves her from face planting on the floor.  “Thanks,” she mutters and toes off her other boot.  “Before you ask, I’m not drunk.  I had every intention of drowning my sorrows and getting shitfaced, but Bucky was there and we just shared a couple of pitchers and talked about some things.  So, I have a little liquid courage right now, but you know Bucky wouldn’t have let me leave to come here if I was plastered.” 

 

Steve nods once and shoves his hands into the pockets of his jeans.  “How—” he starts and trails off, then clears his throat.  “How’ve you been?”

 

She stands and tugs the sleeves of her sweater down over her hands, keeping her focus on them rather than the man in front of her.  “Not great,” she answers honestly.  There’s no point in lying to him; he knows her too well.  And that would defeat the whole purpose of coming here in the first place.  “Pretty lousy, actually.  You?”  Darcy lifts her eyes enough to see his face and her heart aches to see him looking as sad as she feels.

 

“M’miserable without you, Darce.  I miss you.”

 

Biting down on the inside of her lip doesn’t keep the tears from welling up in her eyes the way she’d hoped.  “I miss you, too,” her voice cracks and two fat tears roll down her cheeks.  Darcy squeezes her eyes closed and covers her face with her hands.    

 

“Darcy,” Steve says softly, taking two steps to close the space between them.  He reaches out and pulls her against him, wrapping his arms tightly around her shoulders; she doesn’t make a single move to resist.  It feels too comfortable and safe, too much like home to do anything other than press her cheek against the solid wall of his chest and slip her arms around his waist to hold him closer.  He cups the back of her head, fingers tangling in her hair and murmurs, “Please don’t cry, sweetheart.”

 

Those words have the opposite effect and she cries harder, sobbing into his chest and clutching the t-shirt at his back like a lifeline.  He holds her while she cries, rubbing her back and whispering soothing words against the top of her head.  “I’m…sorry,” she chokes out after a few minutes.

 

“I’m sorry,” he says, leaning back to look down at her.  She’s a hot mess right now, so she keeps her eyes trained on the floor and swipes at the tears with the cuffs of her sweater.  Steve tips up her chin with his index finger and waits for her eyes to meet his.  “I’m so sorry,” he repeats.  “It’s all my fault.” 

 

Darcy shakes her head vehemently and feels her face crumple as another round of tears threatens to start.  “No, it’s not,” she sniffles.

 

He doesn’t respond, just curves a hand gently around her face, stroking the pad of his thumb over her cheek.  It’s warm and familiar and she can’t stop herself from leaning into it.  “I love you,” he says, the deep timbre of his voice easing some of the ache in her chest, breath catching in her throat.  She didn’t think she’d ever get to hear those words from him again. 

 

It gives her hope. 

 

“Steve—”

 

Steve shakes his head, cutting her off, and curls his hand around the back of her neck, kneading his fingers there.  “Darcy,” he whispers, gaze piercing right through her.  He surreptitiously wets his lips and she has to swallow down the lump in her throat.  “I love you,” he tells her again, before lowering his lips to hers.

 

It’s tentative at first, his kiss, soft and wondering, a gentle sip of her mouth, waiting for a signal that that it’s okay take more, waiting for her to give back to him.  Part of her thinks she should stop this, take a step back so they can talk about things that really need discussing, but she doesn’t seem to have the words.  If she leaves here later without anything having changed between them, at least she can have this one last time.  Maybe it's selfish, but it’s honest, and now is the time for honesty.  Darcy angles her head slightly and opens her mouth under his, sighing when his tongue brushes along hers.

 

She expects things to snap from slow to frenzied, but they don’t.  He kisses her a little deeper, holds her a little closer, but it’s almost lazy, this slow burn he’s setting, and she doesn’t mind a bit.  Darcy grabs the hem of his t-shirt and pulls it up his chest, breaking the kiss long enough so he can tug it over his head.  Steve’s eyes questioningly flick over her face looking for a sign that she’s sure about this.   _I love you_  is on the tip of her tongue, but she can’t get her mouth to say the words.  They’ve always been hard for her.  She tugs her sweater off and drops it to the floor with his t-shirt instead.

 

Steve exhales slowly, the heat of his breath tickling her forehead as his eyes comb slowly up and down her body.  He cards his fingers through her hair, smoothing it out of her face and over the backs of her shoulders.  “Beautiful,” he murmurs, his fingers trailing down her neck, making her pulse skitter beneath his touch.  The corner of his mouth ticks up quickly before pressing his lips to hers again.  Darcy sinks into the kiss this time and reaches for his belt, hooking her fingers around it to pull him closer.  She eagerly lets Steve walk her backwards towards his bedroom, his broad hands spanning her waist and igniting pinpricks of pleasure along her skin. 

 

The door closes at his back, and there's a shift in the air, in the tension between them.  His hands slip down around her ass so he can draw her up and press his hips into hers; she can feel the hard length of him against her center and it pulls a low moan from the back of her throat.  Darcy wraps her arms around his neck, and huffs out a breathy laugh when he grabs the backs of her thighs and effortlessly lifts her off the ground, hooking her legs around his waist.  Her fingers sink into the hair at the back of his head as he carries her over to the bed and crawls onto the mattress, laying her down and lowering himself on top of her in one fluid motion.  “Always did like that move.”  She smiles against his neck and presses an open-mouthed kiss there.        

 

Steve skims his fingertips along her collarbone, down over the swell of her breasts, grinning when her skin prickles with goose bumps beneath his touch.  “I know.”  He slides her glasses off her face and sets them on the nightstand.  His mouth follows the same path as his fingers and hands, making her arch and sigh under him. 

 

He whispers her name reverently and pushes up to capture her lips between his, hands sliding around her back to undo the clasp of her bra.  She arches up to help him and Steve eases the straps down her arms.  He presses another kiss to her lips before bowing his head, moving down to her breasts.  Closing her eyes, she runs her hands over his back and shoulders, moaning when he sucks a kiss into a sensitive spot.  Darcy tries to memorize every move, every sensation while he maps her body with his mouth and fingertips.  

 

“I’ve missed you,” he says, kissing his way down her stomach, tongue dipping into her navel.  “So much, Darcy.”  He unbuttons her jeans and eases the zipper down.  She reaches down to help him and their fingers brush together at her hips, sending a jolt of pleasure up her spine.  His eyes flick to hers and they share a quiet smile before he tugs off her jeans and socks.  “It’s only been a week, but…” he trails off. 

 

She pushes up to rest on her elbows and watches him as he stands beside the bed and shucks his jeans.  He’s wearing the Captain America boxer briefs she bought him as a joke, but decided they were sexy as hell once he tried them on and told him he had to keep them; his body is so gorgeous it makes her throat tighten.  “I missed you, too,” she says finally and holds out her hand for him.  Steve laces their fingers together and crawls up the bed after her, dipping his head and licking into her mouth.  Darcy lies back against the pillows, pulls him forward, their noses bumping together awkwardly in the process.  A chuckle rumbles through his chest, huffs out against her lips, and she giggles with him, loosening the knot that’s taken up residence in her chest. 

 

“I love you,” he murmurs, planting one hand on the bed and gliding the other down her side to rest at her hip, fingers toying with the waistband of her panties.  “Only you.”  He kisses her slowly.  “M’gonna keep telling you until you believe me.”

 

“Steve,” she breathes, bending her knee up to feel his thigh press fully between her legs, and  _yes_ , that’s better.  “Touch me.”  His muffled groan vibrates against her neck and he kisses her there, one hand slipping between their bodies, thick fingers rubbing her gently through her panties.  She hums appreciatively and tips her head back further, moaning when Steve’s lips connect with the spot on her neck that always drives her crazy and sends her arching up into his hand.  Darcy spears her fingers through the hair on the back of his head and pulls him in for another kiss.  “That feels good,” she whispers and kisses him softly. 

 

He lifts his head to watch her face, a smile ghosting on his lips, and slides his hand into her panties, two fingers pressing slowly into her heat.  A breathy moan falls from her lips while he works her up with his fingers, the heel of his hand putting delicious pressure on her clit.  She blinks unfocused eyes at him, her hands gliding over hard muscle in his arms and chest.  “Yes,” she hisses, fluttering around his fingers and canting her hips up as much as she can to chase her release.  He grins and bows his head to her breasts again, tongue flicking around one pebbled nipple.  “So close, baby.”   

 

Darcy holds tighter to him, nails digging into his skin, leaving crescent shaped marks on his arms as Steve rubs his thumb over her nerves and twists his fingers in her body.  He says her name, low and deep, his warm breath fanning over her chest and she’s gone, tumbling over the edge as the orgasm sweeps through her.  Once the last wave ebbs away, her eyes slowly open and the heat in Steve’s look makes her shiver.  “Steve,” she sighs. 

 

“You’re gorgeous, sweetheart,” he says hoarsely and hooks his fingers around the top of her panties, pulling them down over her hips.  She’s still too warm and boneless from her orgasm to do much more than watch him slide her panties off her legs and shed his boxers.  The sight of him completely naked and fully hard makes her heart beat a little faster and she needs to feel him.  “Should we—condom?” 

 

Darcy shakes her head.  “Haven’t stopped taking the pill in the last week or slept with anyone else, Steve.” 

 

His brows draw together in a frustrated line and his jaw is clenched so hard she wonders his teeth don’t break in his mouth.  “I haven’t either.” 

 

“Shh—I know.”  Cheeks flushed, she shifts back against the pillows and reaches for him.  “C’mere,” she whispers, parting her legs for him.  Steve slowly covers her body with his, settling himself between her thighs, and drops his lips to hers for a desperate kiss, kissing her until they’re both breathless with it, harsh pants mixing together in the tight space between them.  He rocks his hips teasingly against her, the feeling of his length so deliciously close to where she wants him.  She runs her hands down his back.  “I want you.” 

 

Steve rests his forehead against hers and reaches down to line himself up at her entrance, dragging the head of his cock slowly up and down.  He kisses her again, slow and deep, and lifts his head, waiting until she opens her eyes to look at him.  His blue eyes are so serious and full of love when he says, “I fucking need you.”  Darcy’s breath catches in her throat and tears out a moan when he presses forward and bottoms out inside her.

 

They’re in no rush tonight, and together they find a slow, languid rhythm with the ease of two people who know each other’s bodies better than anyone else.  His lips map every part of her skin that he can reach from his position—lips, neck, cheek, shoulders, breasts—accenting each kiss with whispered apologies and promises.  It’s almost too much, her heart and her head trying to catch up, but she can’t focus on anything but feeling every sensation in her body. 

 

Darcy rolls her hips up to meet his thrusts, the friction so good they groan in unison.  “More,” she pants, tugging his earlobe between her lips, hands clasped at the back of his head.  Steve cants his hips a few more times and rolls them over so she’s on top.  She pushes herself up, slowly sinking back down on his cock, eyes closing at the fullness from this angle, and moans softly.  “Yes,” she breathes, circling her hips experimentally, hands resting on his chest. 

 

“Look at me,” Steve tells her.  He glides calloused hands up her thighs to grip her hips while she rides him slowly.  She opens her eyes and her lips curve warmly at his weighted stare.  “God, Darcy,” he murmurs, rolling his hips up into hers.  “So damn good.”  His eyes fall to her breasts, bouncing gently with each movement she makes and she smiles again.

 

“You always did love my tits,” she laughs.

 

Steve sits up and wraps an arm around her back, pressing her flush against his chest.  “Everything about you,” he says, sinking the fingers of his other hand into her hair, pulling her in for a messy kiss.  He kisses her until her head spins and she has to tear her lips away from his, sucking in a greedy breath.  She’s close again and from the way he’s holding her, hips stuttering up, she knows Steve is, too.  Darcy locks her arms around him, hands seeking purchase on his back, his skin hot to the touch and slick with sweat, nose buried in the crook of his neck as the heat sparks low in her belly.

 

“Come with me,” she says, licking a stripe up his neck and swiveling her hips frantically.  “I’m close.”  Steve grunts, gripping her hips tightly and bucking up into her.  A few more thrusts and Darcy’s whole body tightens, head dropping to his shoulder, inarticulate words spilling out of her mouth as her vision blurs white around the edges and she comes apart.  She clenches tightly around him, her fingers tugging on his hair and he jerks his hips up hard once more, coming inside her. 

    

Steve’s breath comes out in hot, ragged puffs on her skin, and he’s holding her so close it’s difficult to draw a deep breath.  She doesn’t care, just wraps her own arms tighter around his body and peppers his neck and shoulder with lazy kisses while they come down.

 

Darcy leans back enough so she can look at his face.  Thick lashed eyes stare back warmly, a soft smile flirting over full pink lips that edges towards rakish when he runs his fingertips up her spine, prickling her skin with goose bumps.  She squirms a little in his lap and cups his face in her hands.  If they have any chance of really fixing what’s bent, she needs to put all of her cards on the table.  The words are in her mouth again and they don’t feel as scary anymore.  “You’re thinking so loudly,” he murmurs, kissing her lips sweetly. 

 

“I love you.”  Steve stills his hand and blinks at her.  It’s not that she’s never said the words to him, she has; the words are just hard for her. She can count the number of times she flat out said them to him on two hands with fingers left to spare.  Steve deserves to hear them and she wants say them.  Darcy blows out a slow breath and rubs her thumb across his cheek.  “I love you,” she repeats, “and I just need you to know that.”

 

“Darcy—” he breathes, eyes searching her face, a smile tugging on his lips. 

 

She smiles back, happy to have made him happy with the words.  “I really do, Steve,” she whispers and kisses him.

 

 

* * *

 

When she pads back into his bedroom, Steve’s sitting propped up against the pillows, dressed in gray sweats, his face cast in a warm glow from the lamp on the nightstand.  He’s eating from a carton of mint chocolate chip ice cream and he smiles at her, his eyes roaming down her bare legs as she crosses through the room.  “Yeah, I borrowed your shirt,” she says, plopping down beside him on the bed and tugs at the hem of his plaid button down.  “Hope you don’t mind.”    

 

“Definitely not,” he smirks, eyes on her legs again.  Darcy elbows him in the ribs and settles back against the pillows.  Steve holds out a spoonful of ice cream in front of her mouth.  She flicks her eyes over to him, and he grins.  It’s so familiar and comfortable; she can’t begin to name all the times they sat just like this, passing ice cream back and forth when they had things to discuss.  Leaning forward, she eats the bite of proffered ice cream, savoring the sweetness on her tongue as it melts. 

 

There’s a lot that needs to be said, a lot that needs resolved.  Some of it won’t be so easy, especially with the insecurities she has.  But she wants to fix it.  So does Steve. 

 

He’s worth it.

 

What they have is worth it.

 

“We have a lot to talk about,” she says. 

 

Steve sighs around the spoon in his mouth.  “I know,” he replies, digging into the ice cream again.

 

Darcy rests her head on his shoulder, finding comfort in his warmth, and lets him feed her another bite.  She takes a deep breath for courage.  “I’ll start.”  


End file.
